


Before Opening The Shutter

by somuchforbaggles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Photographer!Dean, artist!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somuchforbaggles/pseuds/somuchforbaggles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is stuck in the Hell that is the photographer's version of writer's block - something only his muse Castiel can save him from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Opening The Shutter

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of inspired by [this picture](http://deancaspornlookalikes.tumblr.com/post/73752018778) (nsfw link) and [this painting](http://ghostran.tumblr.com/post/81126645183/pulling-out-by-jeffrey-camp-from-the-i-cheer-a). Also on [tumblr](http://ghostran.tumblr.com/post/82305995474/ao3-deans-shutter-finger-was-itching-it-had).
> 
>  
> 
> _“Look and think before opening the shutter. The heart and mind are the true lens of the camera.” - Yousuf Karsh_

Dean's shutter finger was itching.

It had been itching for weeks, and even though he'd been consistently taking pictures, none of them were deemed good enough for his portfolio.

He'd done his regular rounds: There was Charlie, who Dean had met when he shot  _Sexy Nerd Girls of 2013_ , Benny, who was his go-to guy for anything outdoorsy, and Jo, who he liked to pose with strategically placed weapons, but none of them had scratched the itch.

The damn finger was driving him so crazy Dean was prepared to rip it out of its socket, but  _the itch_  was finally relieved when a gift from the gods came in the form of a text message.

**Cas**  
Today: 13:02  
 _Come over. I've been painting._

Dean dropped everything he was doing, as he usually did when he got a text from Cas, and started gathering his equipment. If there was an arty version of a booty call, then that's what Castiel was to him. Oh - that was it - for lack of a better word, Castiel was his muse. 

Castiel was an artist, one who could only paint in the nude, which meant that by the end of one of his sessions, he would be covered in bright flecks and smudges. With the floor to ceiling windows in Cas's south-facing apartment, the paint-speckled man was always bathed in natural light, making for a perfect picture.

It didn't hurt that Cas was beautiful, either.

He drove over in a matter of minutes, nearly running a red light he was so eager, and received more than a few dirty looks from his fellow drivers. Dean didn't care so much. Photographing Cas was worth any tickets and beeping horns he might get.

Knowing that Cas would most likely be too preoccupied to get the door, Dean did what had been suggested to him in a blasé manner on a number of occasions - he scaled the fire escape, camera and tripod slung across his back. The window was open by just a crack, only a wooden wedge stuck on the sill saving Cas from the perils of paint inhalation. Dean shook his head. Castiel was so reckless when inspiration struck. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, and the only glasses of water Dean ever saw in the apartment were ruddy with paint and filled with forgotten brushes. 

But Dean was only the photographer. Taking care of reckless artists wasn't part of his job description. Taking pictures of them was.

He lifted the window wide enough for him and his equipment to fit through, and carefully swung his legs into the apartment, the tripod on his back thunking against the windowpane and alerting Castiel of his presence.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said distractedly as he streaked indigo on the bottom of the large canvas before him. "I see you took my advice regarding the fire escape."

"Yeah, I didn't wanna wait thirty minutes before you realised that the buzzing noise you heard wasn't part of your imagination," replied Dean dryly. 

Cas huffed. "It was ten minutes, and I had bees on my mind."

 _Ahh yes._  That had been when Cas was using honey and honeycomb to enrich the texture of his painting. His body had been enriched too; the memory of the sunlight glinting off his sticky golden skin all too hard for Dean to forget. A couple of other things had gotten hard in that session, forcing Dean to take a break to stop his brain from thinking that they were shooting softcore porn. It really didn't help that Cas had played coy, either, with his wide blue eyes and parted pink lips. Dean still shuddered when he came across the photos of Cas scooping two fingers of the honey sliding down his inner thigh and sucking on them.

Dean pushed that memory from his mind and set up his tripod to take the wide shots. He had walked around the apartment enough to know where the best angles were, and had no need to worry about his model, as Cas looked amazing no matter what angle Dean shot him from, the photogenic bastard. 

Cas stretched upwards to paint a stroke of peach, his left leg pointed in a low arabesque.

_Snap._

Cas mixed cadmium with a dark gold, the tones of his cheeks yellowing as though someone had held a thousand buttercups to his face.

_Snap._

Cas let the blue on his brush dry as he swirled his wrist, a relaxed smile complementing the concentration in his eyes.

_Snap._

Cas absent-mindedly itched a buttcheek, his fingers leaving traces of a colour Dean liked to call 'Just Spanked Pink'.

_Snap. Snap snap snap._

On and on the sounds of the shutters and the brushes went, until fingers and hands cramped and the clouds threatened to swallow the sun. Castiel yawned while he shook out his hands, and Dean knew that if inspiration still ran away with Cas's needs, then the man would be yawning through til dawn, and long after.

"How long you been workin' on this painting?" he asked as he captured a close up of Cas's colourful hand.

"Approximately three days," Cas murmured in a monotone.

Dean's eyebrows practically shot off his face. "And you haven't slept? Or eaten?"

"I think I had a nap yesterday. And I ate a bagel in the shower at 4am this morning, so yes, to both of your questions." Cas stifled another yawn and ignored Dean's judging face. Walking over to his paint-stained chaise longue, he draped himself across it and said, "You should photograph me before dusk; I know how important the light is to you."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas's blatant deflection but followed him all the same. Various poses were captured from various angles, and as shadows grew longer, Dean did a final sweep of Cas's body along the chaise. He started with Cas's face, focusing on the coloured specks in his long stubble and the way his eyelashes created long shadows of their own, and moved down to his chest, peppered with pink and blue splatters and the dragging hand print on his stomach. Dean photographed Cas's happy trail, the soft curls that had been spared being matted with dried paint and the hard curls that hadn't. He photographed Cas's cock and the way it rested in a rainbow-dotted dark nest, and how it grew towards the hand print on his stomach under Dean's lens. He started to snap pictures of Cas's smudged pink ass and was about to move his gaze down his strong thighs when Cas began to breathe a little shallower.

"Everything okay up there?" Dean asked, never taking his eyes from the small screen version of his model.

"Yes -" Cas broke off to give an impromptu huff. "I'm simply a little frustrated."

He moaned, and Dean's head jerked up to find Cas stroking himself with a licked-wet hand.  _Oh. That kind of frustrated._

"You don't mind, do you?" asked Cas in a lower voice than usual, a smirk lacing his words.

"Uh...no, you uh, you carry on."

Dean kept his eyes trained on his muse - because that's all Cas was, his muse - as he took a couple more pictures of his feet, the bottoms of which had most of the damage. Dean wasn't particularly a foot person, but Castiel's feet were caked in dry oils, and made for some very interesting pictures. He stood to take his last few pictures, all full body shots, and got an eyeful of Cas jerking it.

_Snap snap snap snap snap._

One last photo. Just to be sure.  _Snap._

 _Yeah, that's the one,_  Dean thought with pride. He beamed as he stared at the picture, his thumb ghosting over the image of a colourful Cas with his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open in a silent gasp, and his painted fingers wrapped around his dick.

Dean grimaced. "Doesn't that chafe?" he wondered aloud, inching closer.

"It's a fascinating feeling." Cas locked his daring stare with Dean's and ran his fingers over the head of his cock, letting out a shaky breath. Brazenly, he asked, "Would you like to experience it?" 

There were two options that Dean had. The first was that he said 'no thanks' because Castiel was his muse and he couldn't ruin that, and the second was that he said 'hell yes' because Castiel was really fucking hot and anyone would be an idiot to turn him down. _  
_

Dean was not an idiot.

He walked around the chaise longue to place his camera on the tripod and clumsily turned it off with his excited fingers. Unbuttoning his jeans and walking back round, he saw Cas straining to look for him with a lost gaze.

Pouting, Cas said, "I thought you were leaving."

"And pass up getting naked on the chaise with you? I might look like one, but I'm not an idiot." Dean snorted at Cas's apparent idiocy and stepped out of his pants as he replied. Not wanting to be too forward, he knelt before his muse instead of in between his muse's legs, and caught the man looking fixedly and reverently at him.

"You don't look like an idiot."

Before Dean could argue, Cas grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him in. Cas's mouth was surprisingly gentle against his own, and tasted only slightly of the paint water Sam had dared him to drink when they were younger. It could have been honey he tasted if only he had kissed Cas sooner, but Dean didn't mind too much, not when Cas's tongue was acquainting itself with his own.

Cas pulled off Dean's shirt in the small break they took to get more comfortable, and then pulled Dean up so they could lay on the chaise together, but didn't actually lay down. Instead, he stayed in between Dean's legs, running his hands up and down them.

"May I remove your boxers?"

The tentativity in Cas's voice was so different to the seductive tone it had had earlier, and biting back a smile, Dean answered, "Yes you may," and raised his hips in invitation.

Cas pressed his lips to the very faint 'v' of Dean's hips and slid his underwear off, kissing down Dean's legs as he went.

"One day," he murmured as he threw Dean's boxers over his shoulder, "one day, I'm going to paint you. So beautiful."

"Says you," Dean replied, groaning when Cas settled their cocks together. "Mmm, you were so hot when you had all that honey poured over you." He pecked kisses along Cas's jaw and ground upwards, revelling in the gasps Castiel made.

With a cocky smirk, one Dean could stand to see more of, Cas said, "I still cannot believe you didn't lick it off of me. I wanted you to, but you ran away."

Dean gave a short, shocked laugh, and licked what he had wanted to weeks ago. His hands wandered to Cas's backside, where they squeezed and kneaded and used those pink cheeks for leverage.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, rolling their hips together and claiming skin with their mouths, and when Cas added his hand into the mix, for a split second only the whites of Dean's eyes could be seen.

"Oh my God..." he breathed, "That is...fascinating - ah!"

Cas twisted his hand and bit Dean's lower lip. Growling into the nibble, he sped his thrusts and swallowed the obscene noises Dean was making as he came apart. Dean had to do the same for the man on top of him not long after, and for a few very long minutes, they kissed languidly while they came down.

"Fuck, Cas," was the only thing Dean could say, but Cas, being the devious shit that he was, moved to kneel on the floor so he could comfortably drag a finger through the white splatters on Dean's tummy and chest.

"I said I would paint you one day," Cas said with a lazy smile, making patterns out of the sticky mess.

While Dean missed the warmth of Cas's body, he could certainly get on board with what said artist was doing. He grinned at the erotic tickling that was being administered and ran a hand through Cas's dark muss of hair, playing with the ends and twirling the short strands between his fingers.

"Heh. Kinky son of a bitch," he said fondly, his lopsided smile being met with a kiss. "After you're done  _painting_ , we're gonna shower and then I'm gonna make you dinner."

He expected some resistance, knowing that Cas could be stubbornly independent, but Dean's firm suggestion was met with a nod. 

"Okay. As long as we can have sex again afterwards."

Dean grinned again and pulled Cas's lips to his once more before letting him finish 'painting'. When Cas finished, and with permission went to get the camera to immortalise his creation, Dean posed in the most overtly sexual way he could, showing off his painted torso. But, when Cas plucked the camera from the tripod, his blue eyes went wide in a way that Dean had never seen before.

"Um, Dean?" 

"Yeah?"

"Did you mean to switch your camera to video mode?"

Dean's brows drew together, and after a pause, he said with only a hint of doubt, "I turned it off."

Wide eyes flicked to his narrowed ones. "No, you switched it to video mode. We accidentally just made a porn movie."

"Uhh...oops?"

And by the way Cas positioned the camera towards the bed after they had eaten dinner, he was more than keen on making another one.


End file.
